


Of Bright Eyes and Begetting Days

by Natasha_Rostova



Series: Of Bright Eyes [5]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Family, Family Fluff, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:21:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23239114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natasha_Rostova/pseuds/Natasha_Rostova
Summary: Nerdanel is thrown into the world of royalty, as her and Fëanáro navigate their newfound closeness at his week long begetting day celebrations.
Relationships: Fëanor | Curufinwë/Nerdanel
Series: Of Bright Eyes [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1369057
Comments: 21
Kudos: 43





	1. In which Nerdanel talks to a jacket

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven’t already, please read the previous installments in this series before continuing. There is an over arching plot, and this series will make little sense without the previous installments being read.

In the morning, everything felt strange. Untouchable almost. Her voice was sore from crying and her eyes felt puffy. Yet in Nerdanel's heart, she felt bright. Bright with the light of hope. Hope for herself. And perhaps hope for dear Fëanáro. 

He had gone home late. For hours they sat, foreheads pressed together, just breathing in each other's company. Until every tear was dry, they sat silent. Until at last Nerdanel had whispered that he should go rest. Tomorrow would belong, and the coming weeks would be difficult with his party.

He seemed reluctant, yet with a deep breath in, he pulled away from her.

And yet Nerdanel swore she could still feel his soft breaths and heartbeat hours later. In the dawn of her room, she swore she could still feel his arms around her waist.

As she laid alone, in the warmth of her bedroom, Nerdanel felt some sense of wonder in her soul.

He was unable to return until after his party, Nerdanel knew this, yet in the haze of morning, she selfishly wished to sit in their newfound closeness again. His party was days away, and undoubtedly he was busy with preparations. Yet that did not stop her from missing him.

Nerdanel sighs. There was no sense sitting in bed and being wistful. The days would come and go no matter what she did. Perhaps if she busied herself, she could brush away the haze that once again sunk her deeper into this feeling Nerdanel had decided to call "I think I like you a lot too".

Sitting up in her bed, mind wandering to her outfit for the day, and the next project she wishes to start, Nerdanel sees it.

Fëanáro’s jacket. Black wool overcoat embroidered in gold thread, delicate detailing, elegant and perfectly tailored. A jacket worth more than her entire wardrobe. A jacket that probably….most definitely smelled like her favorite person in Valinor….Just...Sitting there. 

As casually as she can, Nerdanel stands, slowly walking over to the jacket. She didn’t know who she was acting nonchalant for, yet as “casually” as she can, Nerdanel grabs the jacket. Holding it out in front of her.

“Hello there.” She whispers softly, hint of jest in her tone.

The jacket says nothing back.

“Fëanáro? You want to take a walk on the beach with me? All alone?” Nerdanel fakes a surprised tone, speaking to the jacket as she mimics some light ballroom dance across her room. “How bold of you.”

The jacket remains quiet.

“Yet how could I say no when you insist so?” Nerdanel presses, eyebrows furrowed. She stares for a moment before breaking the act. Nerdanel cannot contain the laughter that rises in her chest. How silly and helpless and wonderstruck she is. Nerdanel giggles to herself, wandering her room with a few more light steps, before falling backward onto her bed.

It smelled like him. 

"Nerdanel!"

Her atar.

The daydream shatters.

In an instant Nerdanel sits up, chucking the jacket away from herself. A dizzying embarrassment chokes her and Nerdanel feels as if her soul left for Mandos.

"Yes?" Her voice cracks and the choke of her heart only got worse.

"I've been calling you for ages." He continues. And through the beating of her own heart Nerdanel can hear a hint of concern in her atar's tone. "May I come in?"

Oh no.

Despite her confiding in her atar in everything, and despite the fact that he and all of Arda could tell that...that...that nothing happened from her voice alone.

Oh, Eru she felt so embarrassed even thinking about it.

But despite all this, Nerdanel did not want to explain everything to her atar. She didn't want to talk about how she sat with Fëanáro's arms around her waist. And she certainly didn't want to tell her atar about "I like you very much too". 

"One-second atar!" Nerdanel leaps from her bed, heart pounding, viciously scanning her room for the jacket. Finally her gaze settles, it lay across her vanity, covering the mirror. 

That didn't look suspicious at all.

Nerdanel quickly grabs the jacket and tosses it under her bed, knocking several bottles and pens in the process. Standing tall, Nerdanel quickly flattens her hair with her hands, and tries to straighten her night gown.

"Come in!" Nerdanel tries to sound as casual and chipper as possible, yet once again the embarrassment choke causes her voice to crack.

Her atar opens the door. His demeanor is kind, he still resides in his nightclothes, and his hair loosely pinned. Bright kind eyes dulled with rest. 

He stares at her for a moment, before quickly scanning her room, eyes squinted.

"You're not allowed to go and get married anytime soon." His tone is stern, yet Nerdanel can see a glimmer in his eyes.

"Atar!" Nerdanel shrieks, her heart pounds even harder. Oh, how embarrassing. Nerdanel rubs at her face. "Don't say things like that. You know nothing happened! Do not mock me." Nerdanel turns and falls face down onto her bed. Mahtan laughs, the deep sound echoing in her room.

"Oh, Nerdanel." She feels his weight sit next to her. "I merely joke, do not distress." Nerdanel sighs, turning her head to look at him, his expression is kind, yet Nerdanel sees mischief in him. “I know you would tell me before you got married." Mahtan is smiling this time as he speaks and Nerdanel gasps.

"Atar! Just as I trusted you!" Nerdanel quickly shoves her pillow in his face, as he resumes his laughter.

"I am glad to hear your voice, unmarried and screaming at me."

"I despise you," Nerdanel replies, still attempting to suffocate her Atar.

"I love you too dearest." In a swift motion, Mahtan pushes the pillow back onto Nerdanel’s face, silencing her. “If I agree to stop my jest, do you want to talk about it?"

"I did not kiss him if that is what you are prying for," Nerdanel mumbles into the pillow, voice muffled.

"I was actually referring to your fight. But that thought is equally comforting." He muses.

"Fight?" Nerdanel sits up, pushing the pillow away from her face. How did he know about their fight? 

"I heard you fighting with Fëanáro when you first came home," Mahtan says, sitting closer to Nerdanel. He smells like the forest and flame, and despite their jest, Nerdanel does find herself relaxing in his company, leaning onto his shoulder.

"You did?"

"Indeed, I had the forge vent open."

"Well, he apologized. And I accepted." Nerdanel says, staring at her folded hands residing in her lap. The memory of the evening before glimmering just beyond her eyelids. She wished to tell someone how confused yet sure she felt. She indeed wished to confide in someone, to tell them of Fëanáro’s distress, to tell them of her own heartache. To tell someone how afraid she was about all of this. About caring for someone so deeply. Yet her Atar hardly seemed like the right person. 

"Ah." He whispers.

They lull into a silence. Even if they said little, it felt nice to talk to someone. Even if she could got bare her soul. It felt nice to speak of this. For Nerdanel felt in her heart that this was all a dark secret she must keep. Being in love. It felt nice to let someone peak in on the secret. Nerdanel stares out onto her balcony. The glow of the trees covering the landscape in a golden blanket.

Golden.

"You have three letters." Mahtan breaks the haze, setting the letters on her lap. Perfect paper held by a royal seal. All from Fëanáro. 

"It is not even breakfast!" Nerdanel whispers, touching each letter gently. She did not wish to let her Atar know how much these simple letters made her dizzy.

"I know. That poor mail carrier. Caught in childhood romance." 

"ATAR!" Nerdanel screams again. Must all Atar’s torment so? Did they have nothing better to do? Nerdanel shoves at him, trying to push him off the bed. His frame is too large, and despite her best efforts, he does not budge. "Eru! You're going to send my soul straight to Mandos! Please Atar."

"Nerdanel! Speak no blasphemy!" Mahtan's gaze darkens suddenly, and Nerdanel feels instant guilt, yet her embarrassment overcomes it.

"Atar! You're distressing me! I cannot help it!" She flings her arms about, tone almost whining. She felt slightly pathetic, but Nerdanrel felt too flushed to care.

"That is the only time I shall allow an excuse, as I do partly take the blame." Mahtan says,

"Partly? I think you should take all the blame!"

"Nonsense. I am your atar. It is within my rights to mock you." 

She cannot stay mad. And something about the whole situation makes a smile break onto her face. How comforting. Despite the embarrassment. Despite that red flush. It felt lovely to tell someone. It felt lovely to be trusted. It was lovely to be understood. And joking around about this newfound closeness that scared her slightly? Being able to speak freely about it and to laugh? That felt the best of all.

"How about breakfast?" Mahtan says, changing the conversation. Despite his jokes, Nerdanel knew he did not like the idea of her courting anyone. Even if she and Fëanáro weren’t courting. "Maybe cakes."

"Atar we cannot have cakes for breakfast," Nerdanel says, tone light.

"Dear, that is a terrible mindset to have."

"Indeed, but I want to read my letters first. And I wish to be alone." Nerdanel says pointedly, signaling to the door. 

"Oh, fine fine." Mahtan gets up, and makes his way to the door. "I shall eat cakes for breakfast alone. And there I shall die." He says dramatically, winking at her from the doorway. 

"I love you." Nerdanel says, and for one moment her excitement and flush leaves, and there she really sees her Atar. Full of love and life and kindness. 

Most of all kindness. 

And something in her heartaches for Fëanáro.

"I love you more."

“I love you most.”

“Impossible.” He replies, sending her one last smile before shutting the door.

Nerdanel sits for a moment, sitting in bed, letters in her lap. This all felt so strange. Last night seems so close yet so far away. And every second since Fëanáro’s tears, every second after his screams of loneliness, Nerdanel seemed to feel every small act of love deeper. Her atar’s teasing because he loved her. Fëanáro’s scared whisper that he liked her.

And Nerdanel could not even imagine living in a place without that love. And suddenly it seemed to Nerdanel that Fëanáro’s begetting day was a countdown to disaster.

Seething this aside, Nerdanel rips open the first letter. Now was not the time for dramatics. Ignoring the Royal seal, ignoring the fancy envelope she tears through it all. What was paper and wax in comparison to his words?

Dearest, Nerdanel

In Fëanáro’s first letter, he apologizes for the argument again and apologizes for his outburst afterward. Although he does not mention it, Nerdanel knows he speaks of his crying. Crying over his Ammë. He asks how she slept and tells her he was restless. He thanks her for the kindness she’s shown throughout his distress. It’s a short letter, filled with nothing but apologies.

The next letter is softer, less apoplectic and shy.

Fëanáro tells Nerdanel of his party decorations. The golds and blacks. The new portrait of him Finwë had commissioned. How bored he will he as he sits for hours for something as dumb as a portrait. He asks her what she will wear to his party, and lastly, Fëanáro speaks of a family dinner tomorrow. And how much he dreads it.

The next letter is more surprising.

Dearest, Nerdanel,

In writing to you mere hours ago about tomorrow's dinner, a new thought had plagued me. I have spent most of the year dreading this. For this is the only time I am forced to dine with my atar's new family. Nerdanel I feel so out of place there, as I'm sure you are now aware. 

I sit there and I think of how my Ammë should be sitting beside my Atar. It makes my stomach turn. They leave an empty place for her, at my insistence, as they do every year, yet the empty seat sits beside me. Across from my Atar, not beside him. It only makes me feel worse. 

This leads me to my thoughts.

Nerdanel I would feel much braver if I knew you would be there. Nerdanel, you give me courage. It would make me most happy if you would attend the private dinner tomorrow. It would make me happy if you were to sit in the empty place. Next to me. If you saw that fit.

Please write back as soon as possible, for I already find myself pacing for your response.

Yours,  
Fëanáro 

Nerdanel stops reading, heart drowning in her chest. The royal family dinner. Oh, dear. Dinner. At the palace. With Fëanáro's family. Whether he liked it or not. They were his family. And Nerdanel would get to meet them. Formally. At dinner. She would sit and make conversation and-

She would meet the king.

And queen.

Whom she knew nothing of.

And she would be sitting next to Fëanáro.

And she would see the siblings he refused to talk about. The kind one with golden hair, who approached them that night at the ball. 

The sibling that sent Fëanáro into a fit.

Her chest feels tight. This is what she thought. A countdown to disaster. If Fëanáro felt out of place, Nerdanel cannot even imagine how terribly misplaced she’d feel. How plain. How horribly ruddy and simple.

It would be a nightmare.

Yet as she told the jacket, how could she refuse when he insisted so?


	2. In which Nerdanel stands on couches

Nerdanel felt small.

So impossibly small. 

The golden gates of the Noldor Palace lay locked in her front of her. The imagery alone was enough to make her feel unwanted. For the palace seemed to exist in a world of its own. Untouchable and distant. Cold as the gold itself. And standing there, knowing now that Fëanáro belonged to that world, and knowing that the closer they became sank her deeper and deeper into the golden quicksand.

It was something Nerdanel was not quite sure she was ready for. 

Clothed in another temple dress, Nerdanel can’t decide if she’s undressed or overdressed. Fëanáro did not say what to wear, and these were the nicest clothes she owned. Yet, begetting day lunch couldn’t be as formal as the ball. Could it?

Yet it seemed too late to turn back. Nerdanel already found herself entangled with Fëanáro, unable to remove herself from the feeling of a daze every time he looked her way. Unable to stop reading his letters, unable to stop herself from that lovely feeling of falling. 

Just behind the closed gates, Nerdanel sees two guards walk toward her in sync. In golden uniforms with deep blue accents, they seem to sparkle in the light of the trees. Their faces seem solem, and all too serious. 

Nerdanel quickly readjusts her dress and tries to stand a little taller.

How strange all this felt from her first visit to the palace. Before none of the glamour seemed to matter. She wasn’t concerned with anyone other than Fëanáro. Now it seems, her head is filled with concerns of impressing everyone. Even guards she would probably never see again.

True, her insecurities bothered her that night, but all that was based around fear of not catching Fëanáro’s eye. 

Wasn't it? 

That wasn’t a problem anymore, her and Fëanáro were friends. They were more than friends. 

And in that revelation, her true fear is revealed. 

How long could she play ‘princess’ before getting caught? How long could she pretend to be clever and pretty and funny before it all shattered? How long would it take for Fëanáro to see right through her? How long would it take for everyone in the palace to see right through her?

To see her. As she truly was.

Small. And ruddy. And afraid.

And lonely.

Nerdanel tries to shake the fear from her head.

Fëanáro had seen her. As she really was. He had spent that night just sitting with her. And he had stayed. That must have meant something.

And his letters.

That-

Her head seems to spin and spin. What was wrong with her?

“Nerdanel, I presume.” A guard speaks to her through the gate, breaking her from her spiral.

“Just so.” She replies, trying to sound sure, yet her voice comes out softer than she intended.

“With me please.” The other guard opens a smaller door within the gate to let her pass. With a deep breath, Nerdanel steps through.

The palace steps seem a bit steeper now, with thoughts of formalities and proper etiquette swimming through her head, Nerdanel feels slightly dizzy. 

She had studied as much as she could in preparation. Reviewing all of Fëanáro’s letters, trying to study his family mentions, sorting through the thinly veiled insults to find their names and personality. 

Finwë, the king. Obviously.

Indis, the queen and second wife.

Umm.

Uh.

Ñolofinwë!

The-

Um.

Oh Eru.

She had studied for hours. And yet now, in the glimmering light of the palace. It all meant nothing. And Nerdanel could not even remember the names of his brothers.

She was ridiculously hopeless.

Up the stairs they walk in silence, and Nerdanel finds the fear in her heart growing. One guard leads her, perfect posture and even steps. And the other follows behind her. 

Nerdanel can’t help but feel slightly imprisoned in their escort.

With a curt knock, the large main door is opened, and Nerdanel finds slight comfort in the idea that she’s seen the palace before. Even if it was distant, at this point, she would take any comfort. The entryway was less formal than the night of the ball, yet it is more or less the same. 

Marbled flooring, and mirrored stairs that met at a balcony leading to the ballroom. The crystal chandelier in the middle of the ceiling is just as beautiful as she remembers, although Nerdanel remembers not caring for the scenery on her first night here. Still. It was pretty. 

And then the guard turns left.

Nerdanel had not gone left before.

And now, following him in these winding corridors with velvet curtains and sky high ceilings, Nerdanel feels more lost than ever.

Even this mere hallway is extravagant. The windows lining the left wall are stained glass. Casting colorful light rays along the perfect floors.

Everything was perfect. Even without a party going on. Everything was so manicured. Structured and elegant.

Perhaps she wasn’t ready.

Nerdanel can feel that sink in her chest once again.

What was she doing here?

A servant at the table of kings.

She was playing the fool.

Again.

Yet his letter rings in her mind.

“Nerdanel I would feel much braver if I knew you would be there.”

And suddenly the guard stops, and Nerdanel almost finds herself clumsily colliding with his back.

“The drawing room.” He says, he gestures to the room as the guard behind her moves to open the door. “You’ll be asked to wait here until lunch.” Slowly walking into the room, Nerdanel finds her breath catch.

The drawing room was almost too large, and Nerdanel finds herself feeling even smaller than before among the exorbitant pieces of furniture. Two couches sit before a large stone fireplace, and on the mantle sits a large mirror. 

The room is gorgeous in theory, with extravagant carpets and hand painted wall designs, yet it all adds to Nerdanel’s fear. Everything was too much of everything else.

“Oh. Alright. Thank you for um-” Nerdanel turns around to face the guards, yet at that moment he shuts the door. Obviously not ones for conversation.

With a shaky breath, Nerdanel wraps her arms around her midsection.

Too much detail. Too much time and care. Everything was breakable and expensive and oh too delicate.

Even the end tables are crafted with excellence, and although the gold theme was a bit nauseating at first, Nerdanel finds that to be her fear taking. The craftsmanship of everything was beautiful. Even if the constant gold and diamond inlays were a bit much.

Nerdanel moves in front of the fireplace, trying to subtly glance at her reflection. One last look before she would be set to impress royalty.

Impress? Nerdanel finds herself making a slight grimace. Since when had she cared about impressing royalty? The Vala? Of course. That’s what her temple dress was made for. But the royal household? When had she started caring about what they thought?

This was just about being there for Fëanáro. This was about being his friend. And supporting him. And being there for him. And meeting his family. And making them like her and-

Nerdanel sighs. This palace was starting to get to her head. Everything about this place just seemed to worm at her head and fill it with doubt. 

And to top it all off. She couldn’t even see her reflection.

The mirror was too tall.

Perhaps that was a good thing however, if she did not succumb to the fears and insecurity, perhaps it would go away.

It doesn’t.

She stands there for a while, trying to stare everywhere but at the large mirror. Trying to convince herself that she didn’t need to look in the mirror. What did it matter?

However, the nervousness grows. She just wanted a quick look. Maybe her hair got windswept. She would need to fix that. 

Not to impress anyone of course. Yet, meeting the king with messy hair might cause offense.

And then he’d be disgusted with her. Then she would be thrown from the palace and then Fëanáro would see how simple she was, and then he would leave her Atar’s service and then she would never see him again.

Nerdanel holds in a scream.

This was madness.

Nerdanel huffs, before taking a quick look at the door. No one seemed to be approaching. Yet.

She would just need to be slightly taller.

Quickly, Nerdanel rushes over to the plush red couch sitting in front of the fireplace. A little act of rebellion against royalty never hurt anyone. Except when it did.

Nerdandel bends over and unlaces her sandals and, removing them from her feet, Nerdanel climbs on the couch and stands so she may view herself in the mirror. The couch cousins are too soft underneath her feet, the plush velvet shifting and sinking. Nerdanel shifts her weight slightly to maintain balance as she meets her own gaze in the mirror.

Why was it so high? Was it merely a decoration? Who decorates with a mirror? Did mirrors not have practical uses in this house?

Yet she maintains her balance, and Nerdanel takes a hard look at herself.

Suddenly her appearance did not fill her with as much confidence as it did when Nerdanel had left home. 

She looks plain. 

The dress she had spent hours picking, now seemed all too simple. The white dress was almost childish among the priceless furniture, light and flowing. The hairstyle she had slaved over now seemed too messy. Wavy strands falling in her face and falling from her ponytail. Defeated, Nerdanel presses at her red cheeks, making faces in the mirror. 

She looked ridiculous. Like a child. Windswept and ruddy. Yet, Nerdanel supposed that making faces didn’t help her confidence.

“That couch is over 4,000 years old.” Nerdanel almost loses her balance, stumbling slightly at the intrusion.

Fëanáro.

His clothing is black as the shadows. Dark pants and boots, matched with a black tunic. Yet, his black wool capelet is embroidered in gold. Swirls and spirals and flowers of gold thread litter the cape, sparkling in the candle light. Only now does Nerdanel feel a pull in her chest.

How strange.

In her simple white dress that floated and flowed, how different the two of them seemed.

Bright as tree light and deep as the shadow realm.

In the back of her mind, Nerdanel knows there is irony in it all. As If the world she was stepping into was simply a shadow, sent to corrupt her. Yet, Nerdanel can’t find it in herself to care.

Not when Fëanáro was in the same room as her.

“I'm too short to see in the mirror.” As soon as she speaks, Fëanáro laughs, eyes a glow, and Nerdanel finds breathless laughter bubbling from her own chest. 

He was strange today. Nerdanel could tell by first glance. He seemed lighter, more relaxed. Despite the anguish that Nerdanel knew lay beyond the surface, he seemed better at controlling it today.

Perhaps it was the comfort of being alone with your friends in one's own home.

“So your first thought is to climb on the furniture?” Fëanáro responds, walking toward her. He has that dumb smile again. The one Nerdanel hadn’t seen since that night at the ball. The secret one. The one that made her feel floaty. Nerdanel can’t help her own smile that forms.

“Well. I had many thoughts.” She says lightly, her voice escaping her and shifting into a breathless tone.

“Such as?”

“Jump as high as I might, yet that seemed too noisy. So standing on the furniture prevailed.”

He stands square in front of her now, less than an arms length away. With her added height, he stands a good head shorter than her, staring at her with his deep brown gaze.

“‘Jump as high as you might’ would have been just as entertaining.” His gaze is soft, slow blinks staring up at her. 

That pull is there again, and staring into her eyes, his expression seems slightly lost, fragile and enchanted. His breaths are shallow, and Nerdanel can feel the warmth just grace her face.

There is a haze in her head. How sudden it seems to befall her when he’s around. She can feel a flush grow in her face, and Nerdanel almost feels dizzy, yet in a maddeningly wonderful way.

"You left your jacket in my room." Nerdanel whispers, her voice just escaping.

"Oh." He breathes, although Nerdanel is not quite sure he heard her. For his eyes seem slightly distant staring into hers.

"I did not bring it. I feared unwanted attention." She continues, and Nerdanel can feel the wonderstruck heartache build in her chest. "I mean how silly of me to walk into the royal palace with your jacket and act like-" She continues, the flush quickly consuming her. Her head spins slightly, she had already attracted enough attention by simply existing in this world and-

"You're not silly Nerdanel." Fëanáro says. His gaze is slightly more serious now, brow gently furrowed. He takes another step closer.

“You just watched me stand on a couch that’s worth more than everything I own and make faces in a mirror.”

“Fair enough.” He says. Scanning her expression once again, a spark forms behind his gaze, and his face breaks into a smile.

Taking a few steps back, Fëanáro stands on one leg, and hopping unsteadily, removes his boot.

“What are you doing?” Nerdanel laughs. He looked like a child, slightly uneven and hopping as he unlaces his boot just enough to remove it.

“Well, I now have to get a good look at myself in the mirror.” Fëanáro states confidently, smirking as strands of hair fall into his face. Nerdanel laughs again this time, a warmth seeping in her chest. 

Off he hops to the other foot, shaking as he pulls the other boot. Finally when he’s free of his shoes, Fëanáro all but jumps onto the couch beside her. 

“Fëanáro!” Nerdanel shrieks through her endless laugher. Tone mixed with delight and horror. “You could have knocked me over!” 

“Oh you’re too good for that.” Fëanáro replies, shifting his gaze to the mirror.

Nerdanel turns her gaze as well, and in the reflection of the mirror, Nerdanel locks eyes with Fëanáro. And he’s staring right back.

“You look very pretty Nerdanel.” He says, tone suddenly free of playful banter, voice low and gentle. Eyes still locked on hers in the mirror. 

There is something written just below the surface of his expression that Nerdanel can’t place. Pity? Does he feel bad for her?

That didn’t seem to make any sense. 

Did Fëanáro know how scared she was? Could he feel the nervous gaze as she scanned her reflection?

Despite being the only people in the room, Nerdanel cannot help but whisper in response, as if anything louder than a wonderstruck sigh would break the delicate trance they had quickly found themselves in.

“Thank you.” Nerdanel breathes. “You look very pretty too. Even when you’re not wearing boots.” She smiles at him in the mirror.

He laughs then, breathless and soft. And Nerdanel did not seem to realize before how much she missed that sound.

“Thank you.” 

They pause in silence then, eyes scanning the others reflection. With a delicate shift Nerdanel bumps his hand with hers. His hand is warm in its light brush against hers, and Nerdanel can hear her own breath hitch.

Nerdanel can’t seem to hear anything over her own heart, yet suddenly feels the warmth of his hand brushing hers. Fingers just gracing each other’s. Not quite holding hands, yet too close for friendship.

The delicate dance is almost too much for the swirl in her head.

"About your jacket.” Nerdanel whispers suddenly, turning to face him, “I’m sorry I didn't bring it. I guess I just scared myself a bit. I must have just been overthinking it."

"Do not worry over it. I'll just grab it when I resume my apprenticeship." The daze seems to be broken now, as he stiffens slightly. Not enough to worry her, yet enough to pull at her heart. Not in a lovely way as before. But in a way that makes her sad.

Although not as harsh as before, the mention of his apprenticeship sees to have made his cold mask return. If only slightly. 

Nerdanel did not want to see him afraid again. She wished he never had to pretend to be strong. She wished that he could always be happy and dazed. And Nerdanel most certainly wished he could always hold her hand and make her brave.

Fëanáro hops from the couch, landing on the carpet with perfect balance and grace. Something about his structured movements make her feel ever worse. She had made him tense. Again.

Yet despite her blood now seeming cold, Fëanáro turns around and offers his hand to help her down. There is tension in his gaze, yet she can see him struggle to swallow it.

They sit on the couch, lacing up their shoes in relative silence among their light breaths.

“I’m very glad you came, you know.” Fëanáro says at last, “Even if we just stand on furniture and talk about jackets. I enjoy talking to you.” He seems unsure, gaze locked on tying his laces.

Nerdanel gazes at him. How strange he was. At least he seemed to be coping better this afternoon. Despite her fumble and his unsure tone, Fëanáro did seem better. If slightly.

“I enjoy talking with you too.” She replies. Placing a gentle hand on his arm. He stares at her for a moment, as if about to say something, yet stops himself. Masking it in a sure smile.

Standing tall, Fëanáro extends his arm.

“Into battle then?” Fëanáro says, eyes bright with mischief and a princely charm. Nerdanel laughs.

“To lunch.” She corrects, faking a slightly stern tone.

“Oh same thing.”


	3. In which Nerdanel finds out that Fëanáro has sisters

Nerdanel felt a little taller with Fëanáro at her side. The golden hallways and velvet curtains all seemed to fall to white noise as his arm was linked with hers. The hallways no longer feel looming and empty, as his breath lays in sync with hers.

In silence they walk, yet Nerdanel finds herself comforted in the blanket of the quiet. Although they could taunt in wits and dance around the warm feeling in their chest with mindless banter, there was something about the quiet they always seemed to rest in, something about it made her feel closer to peace and happiness than anything else.

“Won’t you introduce us now?” Suddenly another presence is walking alongside them. Breaking the quiet haze.

It’s the one who requested an introduction at the ball, and now it seemed to be confirmed this elf was one of Fëanáro’s brothers. It must be Ñolofinwë. Nerdanel was almost certain his other brother was blond.

His cape is matching to Fëanáro’s, yet instead of black, his caplet is a royal blue. Yet the embroidery is the same, golden leaves and flowers. Setting aside their near matching clothing, it’s almost shocking how similar he physically looks to Fëanáro. 

Their hair was identical, long and perfectly hickory colored, and the deep brown of Fëanáro’s eyes was mimicked in his. Ñolofinwë was less pale than Fëanáro however. Although Nerdanel reasoned that Fëanáro was never outside in the light of the trees, so his slightly muted complexion of a golden brown would seem pale compared to his brother. They stand almost at the same height, and Nerdanel would be foolish to not see the similarities in their stance and mannerisms. The perfect posture and gentle footsteps.

Fëanáro stops walking, expression shifting from a soft gaze to harsh lines. Eyes meeting his brother, he smiles humorlessly. 

“May I present, Nerdanel, Daughter of Mahtan.” Fëanáro says, his voice low and dry. His brother’s eyes light up at her name, and he seems genuinely delighted to meet her. Something about the warm light in his eyes, helps relax her frantic mind. 

"I am Ñolofinwë. Second of the High King. It is truly an honor to meet you. I've heard very kind things." His smile is bright, and he extends his hand, as if to greet her. And although their resemblance is uncanny, his soft expression makes him look nothing like Fëanáro. Nerdanel smiles back, despite the obvious annoyance radiating from Fëanáro. 

"Oh. That's lovely to hear." Nerdanel feels a flush as she speaks, shifting her gaze to Fëanáro. He seems distracted, staring at Ñolofinwë, unable to hear her. His extended arm now stiff in her hand. “It is truly an honor to meet you as well.” She says politely, although in the back of her mind Nerdanel reasons that there is no honor among their meeting, as she did not even know he existed until mere seasons ago. But he seems nice enough.

Ñolofinwë definitely doesn’t seem as annoying as Fëanáro wrote in his letters. He seemed sweet.

“Yes I’m sure we’re all charmed.” Fëanáro speaks at last, tone flat and unamused. Ñolofinwë does not seem thrown off guard however, and simply laughs breathlessly. Eyes glittering with joy despite Fëanáro’s stoic gaze.

“Indeed.” Ñolofinwë replies, “Does this imply you wish me to leave you alone to walk with Nerdanel, dear brother?” He questions, his smile graced with a raised brow. 

Nerdanel bites back a smile of her own.

“Just so.” Fëanáro says through clenched teeth. At least he seemed to be trying.

With another slight bow directed at her, Ñolofinwë turns a corner and leaves them, 

"He seems sweet."

"He's an idiot."

“Can he not be both?”

“You’re impossible.”

"Play nice, I did not walk all the way here to listen to you bicker for an hour."

"Why did you come then?"

"Because I like you very much." Nerdanel says, turning to face Fëanáro. “And that means I wish to help you.” Nerdanel tries to make her tone as soothing as possible, they weren’t even at lunch yet and he seemed unsettled.

Could he not see why she was here?

His eyes are unreadable, yet Nerdanel can make out some uncertainty in his expression before he responds.

“I like you very much too.”

The dining room is extraordinary. Despite her distaste for the gold accenting, Nerdanel finds herself in awe of the architectural masterpiece. The ceiling is domed, crown molding on the trim, paired with painted ceilings. The images seem to depict the awakening of the elves, and the paint is laced with golden highlights.

Three large windows lay to the left, taking up the whole wall. Beyond them Nerdanel can see the garden. The garden where she had screamed at the crown prince. A crystal and golden chandelier sits in the middle of the ceiling above the dining table. White candles just lit and emitting a soft glow.

Everything is perfectly crafted and placed.

Including the occupants. 

They stand near the table, not yet seated.

King Finwë and Queen Indis. 

Staring at them now, Nerdanel feels terribly underdressed. For Finwë’s garb closely matches his son, yet his cape was long, and trailed across the floor. The golden embroidery also extended to his tunic. Laced in blue and blacks.

Yet Queen Indis made Nerdanel feel more plain than anything else.

For her dress seemed to be weaved from gold itself, an intricate pattern crawls down her dress before melting into the floor. Paired with this is a matching cape, with an even more complex design, the cape trails in lightweight rivers behind her.

Beside her stands her two sons. The elves from the party.

Ñolofinwë stands closest to his ammë, seemingly telling a story. Face aglow with soft joy. Beside him stands his brother. Nerdanel did not remember his name, yet with golden hair and bright blue eyes, Nerdanel knew for certain that this unnamed brother was definitely Fëanáro’s least favorite.

But most confusing is the two girls. Fëanáro had never mentioned sisters before. Yet the similarities are unmistakable, and the way the dark haired one leaned on Ñolofinwë’s shoulder as he spoke, said ‘younger sister’.

Sisters.

How had he never mentioned-

Her thoughts are interrupted as the King looks up.

“Fëa! There you are my son,” His face is now in a wonderfully bright smile, as he stares at his son. But his accent. His accent was strange. Something about it made Nerdanel’s heart hurt. Although she was unsure why. 

For Fëanáro spoke with perfect poise, although slightly strange were his infections, Nerdanel merely assumed that was how all rich people talked. Apparently she was wrong.

Finwë moves to meet them, his long cape trailing behind him, his movements graceful and seamless.

Suddenly her blood is cold, and with the King walking towards her, Nerdanel finds all jest and fearlessness gone, even more so than before. Her feet feel stuck to the floor.

“Oh Eru.” Nerdanel whispers. She can feel her face fill with red, and the nervous blush certainly didn’t help her already ruddy complexion. Oh her heart was beating too fast. And not in a good way.

Not in the way that Fëanáro made her mouth run dry and her heart scream. This pounding in her chest felt awful.

Suddenly it mattered very much to her what Finwë thought. And Nerdanel wishes to scream at the feeling.

“What?” Fëanáro whispers back, a slight furrow in his brow.

“What am I supposed to do?” Nerdanel continues, fully aware of the frantic tone that invades her whisper.

“What?” 

“Am I required to curtsy? I don’t know-” Nerdanel can feel her heart pound in her ears, and the mere seconds seem like lifetimes.

“What are you talking about?” Fëanáro sounds slightly peeved now, looking at her with a harsh stare.

“Your Atar! What am I supposed to do? How do I greet him?” With her frantic tone, Fëanáro looks as if he could laugh, the worry melting from his face. This does not bring her any comfort and Nerdanel yanks at his arm. Yet he doesn’t seem fazed, hardly containing his laughter.

“You say “how do you do?” Fëanáro responds, a slight smile written in his eyes.

“Fëanáro! You know very well-” Yet Nerdanel finds herself cut off, and there in front of her stands the king of her people.

“Um. Hello your highness…..” Nerdanel says, her voice almost cracking. Her head is swimming, and before she can think, she continues, “How do you do?” At this Nerdanel hears Fëanáro suppress a curt laugh, yet Finwë smiles brightly.

“I am doing marvelously. I have been looking forward to making your acquaintance.” His eyes are kind, the same deep brown of Fëanáro. Something about it puts her heart at ease. “I am so glad you could join us, may I present, Queen Indis, my dear wife.”

Indis moves to stand next to her husband, an elegant hand placed on his shoulder.

“Hello dear.” The accent. It was unmistakable. Perhaps it was a Vanyar infelection, elegant, yet strange. Indis has a graceful smile on her lips, her beauty was effortless. And suddenly Nerdanel is not at ease anymore. 

“Hello your highness.” Nerdanel breathes. Despite how small and unimpressive she felt in Indis’s presence, something about the queen was oddly captivating. Her perfectly pinned hair and fake smile. She seemed to be very embodiment of the royalty that Nerdanel hated. Yet in her presence Nerdanel finds herself blinded in the golden farse.

“And may I introduce my children, Findis, Ñolofinwë, Írime and Arafinwë.” Finwë continues. Gesturing to the group. Findis offers a slight wave at Nerdanel. In the back of her mind Nerdanel wonders how one would even keep track of four children, much less raise them. The royals were complicated folk it seemed.

“I would greet you again, yet I fear not enough time has passed since our last meeting.” Ñolofinwë smiles, jest written in his eyes. Nerdanel finds herself giggling with nervous laughter, and she can practically hear Fëanáro roll his eyes.

“Truly it is a pleasure to make your company.” Arafinwë states, his tone has bright and joyous as his golden hair color. “I have heard wonderful things.” 

Wonderful things?

Nerdanel finds her gaze drawn to Fëanáro, yet the only expression on his features is distaste.

Before his sisters have a say to greet her, Finwë reaches for Fëanáro’s hand.

“My son, a word before we eat.”

“Of course Atar.” Meeting her eyes briefly, Fëanáro seems to scan Nerdanel’s expression. With a slight furrow of his brow and a slight bow, Fëanáro lets go of Nerdanel’s arm and follows his atar away from the group. 

Yet as Fëanáro passes his sister, he grabs at Findis’s arm and says something to her in a low tone. His expression is cold, eyebrows furrowed and Nerdanel cannot make out anything he says. Yet Findis does not seem bothered, merely smiling as she reaches with her free hand to ruffle his hair. Fëanáro reacts instantly, batting her hand away, and huffing to join his atar. Findis just laughs before moving to join Nerdanel, Írime following close behind.

“Oh, hello. I’m Nerdanel.” With a slight bow of her head, Nerdanel greets the pair.

“I know. I saw you at the festival.” Írime responds, her eyes bright and joyous. There is a childlike glow about her features, innocent yet mischievous. 

“Oh. I fear I did not see you in return.” Nerdanel responds. It was indeed true, she didn’t even know they existed until this moment. Although Nerdanel supposed many people saw her that night. She wasn’t exactly subtle.

“Oh I’m sure you were indisposed.” Írime whispers with a smile, that glint of mischief paying off in her eyes.

Nerdanel feels the heat of embarrassment choke her.

Not subtle at all it seemed.

“Írimë! Don’t say such things, we’ll never get her to come back.” Findis says, and although the first part seems to be a scolding, the latter half seems to be another joke, as Findis winks at Nerdanel. Nerdanel feels her heart stop, and she’s sure the blood has drained from her face. Yet the sisters meet eyes and fall into light giggles, hands covering their mouths.

Nerdanel stills. She did not understand sisters.

“Dears, won’t you sit? Lunch will be in shortly.” The interruption of Indis seems to save Nerdanel.

They all seem to have set places at the dining table, and despite there being more than 20 chairs, the group congregates at one end, like puzzle pieces falling into place.

Nerdanel lags behind the girls for a moment, watching everyone carefully settle into their chairs. She knew that she was going to sit next to Fëanáro. He was very specific in his letter. Yet the very thought of sitting near these political giants made her slow.

“Nerdanel.” Fëanáro. He is staring at her. Eyes flickering between her and the empty chair near him.

“Right.” She whispers. And it is painfully obvious that Fëanáro can see her unease. That they can all see her unease.

As soon as she sits, the dining room seems to come alive. The far doors opening as servants carrying trays and trays of food pile into the room. Surely this much food was not needed to serve one family, for one meal. Despite how peeved this makes her, Nerdanel cannot even get her thoughts to align into anger. 

Everything was just too much. 

How ridiculous she must look.

Even the silverware is confusing. Multiple forks and spoons are littered beside her plate, each only slightly different in size. Nerdanel glances up at Indis, who doesn’t seem to be concerned with eating and is staring back at her.

Oh Eru. 

This was horrible.

Nerdanel takes a breath and sits tall. 

She could handle this.

They were just elves. Just like her.

Except they wore clothing worth more than her house. And they could speak more languages than her. And they knew royal etiquette. And they had perfectly manicured appearances. And their hair never fell in their face. And they controlled everything in this nation. And they would decide if she meant something. If she was worth something. And they could decide if she was good enough. Good enough company. Good enough for Fëanáro.

Oh she felt sick.

“Nerdanel, it has come to my attention that you were at the Festival of Kings all those cycles ago.” Finwë interrupts her headspin, voice deep and curious. His brown eyes are trained on her face. Nerdanel feels the room shift a bit. 

Oh she was dizzy.

“Indeed your majesty. It was very lovely.” Nerdanel manages, trying to sound as confident and kind as possible. It was lovely. Although not for the reasons he intended.

“It is truly a shame I was unable to meet you that night.” He replies, and Nerdanel can see his eyes shift to Fëanáro for a mere moment.

“I didn’t stay long your highness. I apologize for that. I did not get to meet many people. I had to get home.”

“Of course. Although I assume you will be attending the Begetting Day celebrations in a few days time, we will see more of you then I should hope.”

“Yes. I was planning on attending. Although I’ve never been before.” “How are preparations?”

“Quite well dear. Thank you for inquiring. Almost all the lanterns have been crafted, and the decoration of the town square begins tomorrow.”

The lanterns. How did she forget about that? Despite their distaste for royalty, Nerdanel sometimes sat outside with her atar to watch as the lanterns floated through the sky. Cozied up in blankets and cuddling close, they would gaze at the sky as it filled with light.

Even if it was for a royal begetting party, it was undeniably beautiful. 

"Nerdanel. Will you atar be joining the celebrations?” Indis asks, “I fear dear Fëanáro has not told us anything about his apprenticeship. And we’d be delighted to meet Fëanáro’s teacher.” Indis says, her tone is cheerful, yet-

“What business is it of yours what I do with my time?” Fëanáro states, face unreadable. Stone cold and expressionless.

No one seems fazed at the outburst. The only one who reacts is Findis, yet she just raises a brow.

“I fear I don’t know if he plans on accompanying me. He is ever busy.” Nerdanel interrupts, and Fëanáro snaps his mouth shut to let her speak, yet his eyes seem to glisten with flames of anger as she continues. “I’d be happy to talk about him however, if you wish to know more. My atar is called Mahtan.” At the mention of his name, Finwë’s eyes seem delighted with recognition.

“I must indeed say I know of him” Finwë seems delighted at the revelation, eyes a lit with joy. “Your Atar works wonders. Although I can never seem to hire him.”

Nerdanel’s eyes widen. Oh.

For a mere moment Nerdanel seemed to have forgotten where she was. And who they were. 

For Mahtan never did work for the Kings of the land, for their “distasteful pride” offended him. And their desire for gold and not metals.

Oh dear.

“Yes well. My atar is very busy I suppose. Crafting for the Vala and such. Perhaps I can put in a good word for you, your majesty.” Nerdanel says, trying to wipe the surprise from her face. Finwë laughs. 

“How kind of you dear. I would appreciate it.”

"What about your ammë?" Indis inquires. Nerdanel once again feels her heart stop.

Oh dear.

Oh dear oh dear oh-

"She's not around." Nerdanel says, her voice instantly reacting although her mind spins and swims. Instantly she can feel Fëanáro’s eyes trained on her, and in the corner of her eye she can see his furrowed brow and confused expression.

The room felt warmer suddenly. And Nerdanel picks at her hands trying to think of something else.

No one wanted to hear a sob story about her Ammë. Especially not now, when Fëanáro was working through a conflict of his own.

“Oh. How unfortunate.” Indis says, the rest of the table quiet. Nerdanel feels her very skin crawl at the thought of them pitying her.

“Indeed.” Nerdanel says cooly. 

“How unlike you to pry about things that do not concern you.” Fëanáro says, before taking a drink. 

“Fëanáro, ammë was merely trying to make conversation.” Arafinwë says, his tone empathic, yet Fëanáro presses anyway.

“Yet your dearest ammë only seems to ask about sensitive subjects with little regard for curtesy.” He continues and instantly Nerdanel wishes to disapear, she wanted to speak up, to tell him to stop. Yet her head is still reeling and nothing felt quite stable.

“Fëanáro, son, I meant no-" 

“Call me son again and we shall have more problems than hurt feelings.” His tone is sharp suddenly, aloof air replaced with a dark cloud. 

“Oh here we go. Fëanáro are you unable to see past your pride and realize that this dinner. For you. Is held out of love. Stop making everything negative.”

“Negative-”

“It’s quite alright.” Nerdanel interrupts suddenly, voice returning. “I took no offense.” She knows how shaken her voice sounds, yet Nerdanel prays they ignore it.

Nerdanel faces Fëanáro and leans so only he may hear.

“Stop speaking for me. I am quite capable of handling myself.” Nerdanel whispers angrily, voice still shaken, yet Fëanáro only huffs in response. 

He doesn’t seem to really hear her, gaze almost vacant.

“Do you like the lantern celebration Nerdanel?” Arafinwë asks, blue eyes genuine, as if they hadn't just bickered mere seconds ago.

“Oh I fear I’ve never participated.” Nerdanel says, following his lead in changing the subject. “I am aware of the religious symbolism. Life and light in the darkness. Yet I’ve never participated in the ceremony during Fëanáro’s begetting day. But a similar act is performed in a ceremony of Mandos.”

“Well I think that’s enough socializing for today.” Fëanáro stands suddenly, shifting the table. 

“Fëanáro, they haven’t even served-” Ñolofinwë tries to intercut, yet is quickly stopped.

“Oh I’m sure the six of you will manage to enjoy a meal without me. It’s never seemed to both anyone before,” Fëanáro continues, mindlessly looking around the room.

“Fëa.” It is Finwë who tries to reason this time, yet Fëanáro simply ignores him and extends his hand to Nerdanel.

“Nerdanel. I’m leaving. I’ll walk you home.”

“Fëanáro. Youre being rude. I didnt come here to hurt feelings." Nerdanel whispers, "I came to help you."

"You can help me, by leaving with me." Nerdanel stares into his eyes. Fëanáro looks more disinterested than upset, yet Nerdanel knows it is a façade. For his brown eyes are glossy. But determined. Swirling with words Nerdanel could not read. And staring into his eyes, Nerdanel reasons she could lose a battle just this once. 

“Thank you for the meal. And for your hospitality. I am forever grateful.” Nerdanel says as she stands, offering the group a slight nod.

"We were so happy to meet you. However short our conversation was." Finwë seems to acknowledge he must lose this battle as well, as he calmly and elegantly accepts their leave.

“Come on Nerdanel. Its a bit too stuffy in here." 

Fëanáro grabs her hand and pulls her to the door, leading Nerdanel out of the dining room with hasty steps.

It felt just like that night at the ball, yet now Nerdanel finds that Fëanáro is the one running away and her giving chase. Through the endless hallways he leads her, as if the faster he walks the quicker he could forget the incident.

Finally Fëanáro breaks the threshold of the palace, leading them outside through a backdoor.

They were in the garden.

He seems softer outside, or perhaps it was just the light of the tresses playing tricks. Fëanáro lets go of his tight grip on her hand and takes a deep breath in. With his eyes closed it seems he tries to soak in the fresh air.

“Before you say anything, or try and scold me,” Fëanáro says “I do not want to talk about it.”

Nerdanel sighs. Fine. Fine.

"Can we take the long way home?" She says, wrapping a gentle hand around his arm. Fëanáro peaks open one of his eyes to meet her gaze.

"As you wish."

With their arms linked, Fëanáro leads Nerdanel outside through a garden gate, softly directing them through a coddled path that ran through the fields.

Wildflowers brush at her feet as they linger in silence, and yellow and blue petals litter the beaten path. The summer air is warm, and despite her soul still being shaken from the meal, Nerdanel finds some ease in the clear air and bright sky.

After what she perceived was enough time, Nerdanel speaks up.

“I like them.” Nerdanel says, arm linked with Fëanáro’s as they wander the long way home, boots stepping carefully along cobbled paths.

“What?” He responds, a mindless gaze on his features. The warm wind lightly tossing his hair this way and that.

“Your family.” She presses. “I like them.”

“Oh do not try and pity me.” He says with a slight huff. “I thought we left the subject at the palace.”

“I’m not.” Nerdanel says seriously, before changing the subject, “It’s a shame we left early. I thought it was only fair you show me your bedroom. I mean, you got to see mine.” Nerdanel says with a slight pull on Fëanáro’s arm. 

He laughs loudly, the sound echoing in her heart as she fights back a blush. The banter wouldn’t be funny anymore if she melted into a flushed mess.

“I reside in the north wing, technically it’s not even connected to the main palace. You wouldn't like it.” He pushes her shoulder slightly, smiling lightly.

“That sounds very lonely.”

“I insisted after Atar remarried.”

“Oh.”

“I am not impressed by Vanya architecture.”

“I see.” Nerdanel quiets, turning to gaze at the ground as they walk. In her heart she knows this isn’t about architecture, but his family. Yet the blanket statement seems to gnaw at her.

They were nice. Indis was slightly vain sure, but Ñolofinwë was warm, and forgiving. And his sisters were funny, and bright and beautiful. And Arafinwë was softhearted and sweet.

And something about his sharp words seem to cut deeper now that she knew them.

“You are judging me, thinking me prejudiced.” Fëanáro says interrupting her thoughts and turning to face her with a slightly raised brow.

“Yes. Yes I am.” Nerdanel says firmly, meeting his gaze. He huffs, looking away from her.

“Fine then. Live in your mind of endless equality, and I shall live in the reality I am presented with.” His tone is aloof, and despite her pity for him, Nerdanel can feel a fire of her own rise in her chest.

“Just because it’s nothing like you, does not make it bad.” She says sternly, knowing her tone was escaping her, becoming harsher than intended.

“Yes, yet a rotten apple spoils the barrel.” Fëanáro responds sharply, halting his steps and pulling his arm from hers. His expression is all sharp lines, and his eyes seem more empty than warm.

“You imply that Indis is rotting at you?” Nerdanel fires back, standing her ground. This did not end well last time, yet Nerdanel cannot help herself. He was being childish. As much as he was hurting. As much as he missed his ammë, blatant prejudice and ungrounded hate was unacceptable.

“I imply that she rots my Atar,”Fëanáro says coldly “Did you not hear him at lunch, how he speaks? In a simple matter such as linguistics, he has already been rotted. He separates himself from his people. He forgets them.” Nerdanel finds her mouth run dry. Why was it always deeper than she could ever imagine?

“Your Atar has not forgotten you.” Nerdanel says. And she hopes that he can see the compassion in her face, “Married life means growing together. This includes habits, thoughts, and even speech patterns. But it does not mean he doesn’t love you too.” Fëanáro rolls his eyes before crossing his arms across his chest. And that’s when Nerdanel can see it.

“Yes, yet kingship means loyalty.” His tone is less sure now. Yet Nerdanel knows he is not done debating.

“Loyalty to what?” 

“Ones people. One's culture.” Despite his argument, Nerdanel knows that’s not what this is about. 

Fëanáro felt betrayed.

“What about loyalty to ones wife?” Nerdanel says, softer this time, taking a step forward.

“I fear my Atar has already broken that.” Fëanáro steps back.

“As much as you dislike her, you must understand that Indis is just as much your Atar’s wife as Míriel was.” 

“Was.” Fëanáro raises an eyebrow, and Nerdanel instantly curses internally. Why was she so bad with words, and why was he so complicated.

And why did she seem to adore over him anyway?

“I did not mean to-” Nerdanel reaches out, an attempt at an apology.

“No. Go on, tell me how I am supposed to perceive my circumstances.” Fëanáro still shrugs off her advances, and Nerdanel finds her vision blurred at his childish reluctance.

“Fëanáro. Enough.” Nerdanel says firmly, grabbing his hand and holding it in between them. “I am merely saying that you must acknowledge, at the very least, that your Atar is married to Indis. I did not say you must like it. You act as if she is some intruder.”

“Is she not?” Despite his continued protests, Nerdanel can feel his hand soften in her own.

“She is your atar’s wife.”

He falls silent, staring at their joined hands.

“Unless you wish to argue again. I suggest we abandon the topic.” Fëanáro speaks quietly, and Nerdanel can see him struggle to swallow the flames in her chest.

“As you wish.” Nerdanel says softly, staring at her feet. She definitely did not wish to argue again. She had heard enough mindless jabs of speech for one evening. Letting go of his hand, Nerdanel links their arms again. And Fëanáro does not protest.

Mindless conversation makes the walk home pass faster. Yet Nerdanel cannot ignore the slight pull in her gut. If it was guilt or something akin to pity or love, she was unsure. And in between half hearted jets and the brush of their fingertips, Nerdanel finds herself back home.

How strange. How did they always end up like this? At odds yet on the same side. Miles apart yet breaths away.

“Thank you for inviting me.” Nerdanel says, turning to Fëanáro. She can feel the wind nip at her face, yet staring at him there, standing on her porch, completely overdressed for her home yet somehow perfectly placed, Nerdanel doesn't seem to care.

“Thank you for coming.” Fëanáro replies.

“I had fun.” Nerdanel lies, and Fëanáro laughs breathlessly, shifting his gaze to his shoes.

“No you didn’t.”

“No I didn’t. But I’m glad I went anyway.”

He is motionless for a moment, yet Nerdanel knows he is debating something in his mind. 

“You know I spent all year dreading this week. I spend every miserable and repetitive year trapped in that moment. Being alone on my begging day. Being surrounded by people, yet feeling so impossibly alone. You saved me from that.” His tone is quiet, and with his gaze firmly planted on the floor, Nerdanel can see that fear again. The vulnerability. “Even if it didn’t end well. That’s the first begetting day lunch I've attended in years. I usually just hide in my room.”

“Fëanáro. I was serious that night. You’re not alone, you don’t have to be alone anymore. And I’m not going anywhere. I know we argue and bicker. But in the end you are my dear friend. And nothing could change that.” Nerdanel says, taking a step forward to place a delicate hand on his arm. 

Fëanáro shifts his gaze, and suddenly they stand face to face. He’s so close now, each exhale fanning carefully across her lips. 

Nerdanel can feel his warmth again. The wool of his caplet brushing her shoulder. The slight tremble in his breath.

The slight tremble in her own breath.

“And what will we call this? After you leave, and I reside in my room alone, how will I defend this to myself?” Despite her attempt at banter, the warmth of him seems to dance around her head and steal her breath, drowning her speech in a wonderstruck sigh.

“Close talking.” He whispers back, eyes still trained on hers. Wide and glossy is his gaze, and Nerdanel can feel a slight shake in her hands.

Oh.

If she even shifted slightly….

If she just breathed too hash….

Or just….leaned forward a breaths length….

Yet Nerdanel knows the tremble of her lip is more than just childlike love.

It’s fear.

Fear of sinking.

The fear of falling.

Fear of the glittering ball gowns and formal dinners. Fear of a world that made her stomach twist and turn. Fear of the restless nights that plagued his soul. Fear of the darkness that simmered just below the calm waters of his eyes.

The lunch was enough proof of how ill she fitted in that world. How shaken she had been. How afraid. How everything seemed to catch her unbalanced.

For Nerdanel knew there would be no escape. Nothing would be able pull her away from him. Time nor tide, nor the Vala themselves would be able to tear her from his arms. 

She would never wish to leave.

And in the warmth of his breath, Nerdanel fears that she is a whisper away from sealing her fate.

And somewhere deep in her heart, the thought makes Nerdanel very afraid.

He seemed like a current, hidden beneath the calm blue waves, yet threatening to drown her at any moment, lest she misstep.

Not that a Nerdanel wouldn’t enjoy drowning in him. She would willingly drown just to gaze upon his face. But even that revelation struck fear into her heart.

When had she gotten so reckless?

When had she started ignoring that voice in her head that screamed she didn’t belong? 

And yet Nerdanel knew that if she just let herself, she could completely fall...

How quickly she got lost in the dazed smiles. And how quickly she would get lost as soon as he looked at her again.

“Goodnight Fëanáro.” Nerdanel whispers instead, her heart pounding. Slowly she exhales, and steps backwards. Pulling herself from the haze that seemed to sink her into the floor.

He almost looks sad. Almost. Yet Nerdanel can see the fear hidden behind his gaze as well. 

The uncertainty.

“Goodnight Nerdanel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seriously don’t know how I feel about this chapter it’s been a rough few weeks and I’m not super confident in this writing, but I wanted to post it. I definitely like some parts, but I think this is as good as it can get  
> Anyway, I hope you guys like it anyway!!

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, elves can tell if people are married by their voice, and marriage and s*x are kind synonyms in their culture according to tolkien, so that’s what I was messing with if you didn’t know.
> 
> I like playing with the fact that Nerdanel and Fëanáro are practically teenagers when they get married, so I love throwing in some Nerdanel being a teenager.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! It means a lot to me! Please leave kudos and a comment if you enjoyed! It really brightens my day!
> 
> I kinda love this. And hate it at the same time. So if y’all liked it, some encouragement in the comments would be great


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